A day will come when all I listen to is bluegrass

Tom Ravenscroft's music blog.

I may have messed up the Glastonbury Festival, not in the sense of dropping litter -- someone else did that -- but in failing to see many acts that left me feeling all that excited, fortunate or terribly bothered.

Don't get me wrong, I had loads of fun but little of it as a result of the music. There seemed to be too much emphasis on nostalgia. This must have been my mistake -- there were acts there I liked and people I know kept reporting back that they had seen amazing things. Had they though, really?

I genuinely can't work out if this is my fault. I obviously didn't see the vast majority of bands but I did get out and about. I can remember enjoying the Horrors and bits of Warpaint and watching the sunset with my friends. Listening to Pulp was a joy, even without Kate Moss. I may never discover what happened that weekend. It is, frankly, a mystery but I can remember, when I got back to my car and was sat there struggling to get my wellies off, my stereo came on with some unidentifiable metal. It sounded awesome. Perhaps I just needed something with a bit more noise.

On arriving home, among piles of emails offering to sell me houses I can't afford were the words "Glenn Jones". Glenn has a new album out soon on Thrill Jockey records called The Wanting and you should start getting excited about now. His split release with the Black Twig Pickers was the highlight of record stores and his new album further proof that there will come a day when forever more all I listen to is bluegrass.

Here's Glenn (on the left), with the late Jack Rose, in 2009:


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